


Tipper Stickers

by Soobiebear



Category: Megadeth
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-07
Updated: 2015-05-07
Packaged: 2018-03-29 10:27:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3892945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Soobiebear/pseuds/Soobiebear
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>PWP, Dave tries to get his political ideas out while David is playing another game.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tipper Stickers

**Author's Note:**

> Inspiration from a photoshoot where the band's mouths were covered in black tape in response to the PMRC hearings.

Fuck the PMRC. Fuck Tipper Gore and Susan Baker. Dave railed for months about the hearings in Washington, letting it spill over into his lyrics. Megadeth had always been political when it suited their fiery leader, and the rest of the guys were happy to follow him down his recent path. 

Because fuck Paula Hawkins.

For the first time, the record company put their full weight behind Dave Mustaine, well aware that any album with a Tipper sticker wouldn't be sold at the mainstream retailers that filled small town America and boosted the sales numbers. 

Well after the hearings and all the shit that went down Dave was still mad at the world. 1990 didn't change anything, but there were new PR photos needed, Marty and Nick were in where Jeff and Chuck went out. The photographer hired brought minimal props, and had a simple black backdrop set against the bright photography lights. 

A stool was dragged into the working area, Dave quickly perching on the edge and in the center. Marty found a chair, leaving Dave and Nick to stand as the photographer finished setting up his equipment. Nick egged Dave on, dragging over a flag that was abandoned in a corner. Nick slung it over his shoulder, looking like a throwback to a Union soldier. 

Dave turned the simple photoshoot into a political vehicle, grabbing a roll of black gaffer tape and ripping it into four inch strips, sticking them over everyone's mouths. He took extra care in forcing the black cotton strip over David's mouth, pushing the ends harshly into his face. Maybe the whiny bitch would shut up now and just get on with the shoot so they could get out without fucking around.

Marty sat quietly, following the photographer's commands. He was a pro and just got on with things. Nick... Nick and his attitude. Fucking metal alright, but fucking Christ no wonder Dave needed a drink after dealing with his shit. Bad enough he showed up wearing an Einstein shirt, if it had been anything other than black Dave would have killed him. The photo proofs had better come back good or he was going to choke the fucker. 

Then there was David. Half the time he loved the kid, other half he wanted to punch him. He stood behind Dave for the length of the shoot, when the camera wasn't clicking he was poking Dave in the back, jamming his finger between ribs and into kidneys. The irritation would no doubt be printed and posted in every magazine, David's immature way of getting one over on Old Dave. Childish fucking farmboy bullshit that he always pulled, always riding that fine line of sending Dave into a massive tantrum and then being the only one who could pull him back. 

The last photo plate was ripped from the hulking camera, the nameless photographer handing it off to an assistant before starting to break down his gear. Looks like no one wanted to be here today. Dave thought it was great; he had shit to do today and didn't want to spend it in some crappy sectioned off warehouse. 

Dave ripped off the gaff tape, wincing as it burned his lips. Marty carefully picked at the edges of tape, still sitting in his chair as people swarmed around breaking down the set. Nick was gone, not so much as a word to anyone as he went on with his day, one more inconvenience out of the way. Dave dropped his wadded up tape on the floor, squinting as David tried to carefully hold down his skin and work the tape up.

Slapping his hand over David's mouth and the tape, Dave hustled him out of the room. "No you don't, you leave that shit on." Dave pulled Junior's arm behind his back and twisted the wrist, the same move those fucking cops had used on him. Simple, but effective, and Dave could get anyone of any size to go exactly where he wanted them. 

He vaguely remembered some sort of office when he first arrived and quickly found it again, shutting the door behind them and leaving the lights off. A quick flick locked the door and gave Dave the privacy he wanted.

"The fuck with this poking me shit," he poked David in the chest harshly several times. Junior put up his hands and tried to swat Dave away, making Dave double his efforts and dig his fingers into Junior's chest. "Think it's fucking funny?"

David could only shake his head and back up away from the jabs. His legs found a desk and he couldn't move anymore as Dave closed the gap between them. "Not so funny now it's happening to you, is it?" Dave was verging on a full spit flinging tirade, poking Junior anywhere that seemed like it would be painful. David squirmed, unable to back up any further and not able to stop Dave from poking him. 

Junior tried to talk against his tape, beg Dave to stop, anything to get those strong fingers out from between his ribs. He was sure he'd have bruises from it.

"Can't fucking talk your way out of it this time, can ya?" Dave gave him a mighty push and he fell onto the desk, sending office effluvia skating away and onto the floor. Junior was able to push himself up on his elbows with his knees hanging off the edge of the desk. Dave forced his way between his knees and leaned over him, red hair accenting the blotches ringing his face. "Best I've seen you look in a hell of a long time."

Junior ran through his little warning list. Yelling. Red & blotchy. Nose flared. Sneer. Physical violence. He already knew what would happen next. He knew as soon as Dave grabbed his arm and steered him out. In some things Dave was as predictable as they came, but only to David. He didn't think anyone else noticed, and the two new guys didn't have any clue the ride they were in for yet.

Dave puffed himself up like an enraged chicken, adrenaline and testosterone running through him in quantities no one else seemed to possess. Dave loomed over his friend, huffing and snuffling and enjoying the moment. David pretended to cower slightly, Dave always seemed to eat it up. With a sneer, Dave grabbed at himself, adjusting inside his jeans. Junior used the slight break in Dave's focus to attempt a pathetic get away, just a slight scurry back on the desk. It fed Dave's attack mode, hands suddenly on Junior, clawing at him and pulling him back to the edge of the desk before flipping him on his stomach. 

The tape was something new. It was odd not to be able to egg Dave on verbally. David made up for it by knocking Dave in the ankle with his foot. A hand landed between his shoulder blades and pushed him into the wood, Dave's weight bearing down on him. "Don't fucking try that again, asshole," was hissed into his ear. 

Hands grabbed at his hips and pulled at his jeans, too tight to slide over his hips. With a growl, Dave sunk his hands under David's body and groped for the button and zipper, dragging jeans and underwear over the curve of his ass and halfway down his thighs.

David heard an answering zip lowering, and a hitch in Dave's panting. A finger poked into the firm muscle of his ass. "Fucking poking me fucking mother fucker, I'll fucking poke you right fucking back." A few slaps landed between harsh pokes, Dave's inability to adequately express his emotions or desires finding a physical outlet. The smacks weren't so bad, Dave had learned how hard to hit and where to hit over the years, but David had to admit the pokes were becoming uncomfortable. They left him squirming again, tensing up so Dave's strong finger wouldn't dig in. 

After hitting hard muscle a few times, Dave growled and aimed for the middle, finger landing on David's asshole. The poking continued, more of a prodding now, with a bit of spit the finger pressed against the muscle and gained access, jabbing in and out as Dave bit at the inner curve of Junior's ass. When Dave tired of that, he pulled Junior's cheeks apart and tongued Junior's abused hole. Wet smacks and heavy murmurs filled the room as Dave ate out Junior's asshole. 

Junior would have moaned if he could. The lack of lube certainly made Dave more creative. This was a luxury he hadn't anticipated and he could count the number of time Dave had deigned himself over the years on one hand. Now the tape was seriously pissing him off. He wanted to tell Dave yes, more, suck, lick it, harder, but all that came out were some muffled groans. He was stuck trying to press his ass back into Dave's face, trying to spread his legs as wide as his lowered jeans would let him. 

Dave pulled back. Junior was wiggling too much, he was ready and begging for it, even if he was gagged and silent. Dave rose from his knees and looked at this work. He spread Junior's cheeks, hairless and shiny with spit, waiting for his cock to push inside. Dave fisted himself quickly. He slid a finger between the cheeks and circled the hole, dipping a teasing finger inside. Junior pushed himself back and up onto the invading finger. He didn't seem to mind this poking as much. Neither did Dave, honestly. 

Dave pulled his finger out and with one last large spit on Junior's hole he leaned over the hot body underneath him. He pushed himself inside and through Junior's clench of pain. The spit didn't lubricate as well as the store bought stuff did and David winced, grabbing on to the far edge of the desk as Dave forced himself in. 

"Ah, yeah, so fucking tight," Dave groaned obscenely. Junior tried to relax against his body's natural reaction, trying desperately to enjoy what was happening. Dave was always like this after he was mad, all the energy with nowhere to go except into his cock. They always fucked after any major Dave blow up, David enjoying the roughness and raw energy he could never find anywhere else. It often left him bruised and bleeding, but he craved it as much as Dave seemed to need the release.

The pounding left David wincing and without even a reach around there was little to distract from the pain. David didn't dare touch himself when Dave was in one of these moods. It was all about control and domination and Junior whacking off wasn't allowed. He'd tried it once, Dave had pulled away and gone back to his own room, leaving Junior unsatisfied and embarrassed, and Dave in a fucking pisser of a mood the rest of day. David took it as a challenge, to try and get off on Dave's dick alone. 

With another grunt and harsh thrust Dave kept up his brutal pace. Junior realized he wasn't going to win today, Dave rubbing things raw already as the deep burn of trouble started building. David thudded his head on the desk and wished Dave to go faster, pushing back to meet his thrusts and end it as quick as possible. Walking was going to be problematic and he'd have to stand all day tomorrow, cursing at Dave every time they'd have to do something. 

"Fucking bitch... Fucking whore..." A heavy hand fell on the back of David's neck. Fingers twisted in his hair and pulled. David whined, son of a bitch was pulling out his hair by the roots. All he could do was blow air out his nose, not that Dave was listening anyway. 

"God... Damn..." Dave thrust again and then froze, the silence in the room deafening now that Dave's swearing had cut out and his breath caught. After dumping his load, Dave gave a few more weak thrusts, slowly pulling out his cock and stumbling away from a sprawled out David. Dave landed heavily in a wheeled office chair, sending it back a few inches. Junior didn't dare move, waiting to see what mood Dave was in before doing anything. 

Dave caught his breath. "Fucking clean yourself up," David heard a zipper being pulled up. "And don't ever poke me again or I'll bust your ass."

The door closed with a soft click and David finally rolled over on his side. The desk was fucking uncomfortable and his legs still tried to dangle off the side. It took a minute before he could sit upright, quickly standing and dragging his pants back up. He'd poked Dave enough and got exactly what he wanted. He just hoped that if he kept it up Dave wouldn't have any time left to look at the pretty new drummer he just hired.


End file.
